Tuneless
by Stellar Night
Summary: Gilbert is your typical Nazi, yet he's yearning for a free life away from Germany and Hitler. Roderich is a gay pianist, sentenced to the concentration camp Gilbert works at. Their fate intertwines, creating love that reaches to dangerous heights, threatening their lives and the lives of those around them. WWII AU; PruAus.
1. Chapter 1

I never, in my life, wanted to harm anybody. No matter what my superiors told me, no matter what the rest of the world and Germany told me, if I had a choice, violence would be wiped out, no man would kill another out of fear and hate, and the world would live in peace. Oh, and all would hail down to the Awesome Me.

But that was a different matter.

Despite only wanting peace and harmony and all that shit in the world, I'm a strict and faithful Nazi. I wake up every morning, eat breakfast, and travel to the concentration camp I work at-Warsaw, and kill innocent people in cold blood, work prisoners to death, and eat heathy meals while the inmates starve, till I'm allowed to come home once more.

It pains me beyond belief every day to do this. When I see those gray, pale, starving prisoners, I want to throw my gun down on the blood stained ground and quit, even though I know I'd face dire consequences, possibly death for betrayal. The Gestapo could very well lay their hands on me, but I know I'd be doing the right thing for the world.

I'm a Nazi because of my little brother. It's a desperate attempt to try and save him, to make sure Hitler doesn't get his hands on him. My brother Ludwig is gay, and I work at a concentration camp to make sure the Germans aren't suspicious of him. With me being a Nazi, they have no reason to suspect our family is doing anything wrong. I kill people every day, just so he can live with his Italian lover in peace.

I try to believe what Hitler and his followers tell me, I really do. I've read Mein Kampf several times over, desperately wanting to let the message soak in, wanting to become a true Nazi, and believe that Jews are filth, and the Germans are superior to any other race.

But it never works. At the end of the day, I'm just like the Jews and the gypsies and the homosexuals and the allies. I don't want any of this, and I pray the allies will win, that America will bomb Germany, and it will be all over.

Ludwig knows how I feel about being a Nazi, and tells me I should quit, that Feliciano, him, and I would go in hiding. He assures me it would work, but I don't believe him. My brother is just too good-hearted, and he would say that only so I could be spared from working at the concentration camp. I want Feliciano and him to stay free, so I bring myself to work here every single day. Just like today, a regular Tuesday.

I look up at the ashen sky, sighing. There's a new cart coming soon, and I'm on duty to segregate the prisoners.

That's the worst job. I despise having to look into the prisoner's eyes, to see their fear as I sort them into the group that will be killed. I hate hearing their shrieks as they're led away to the gas chambers, never to see the light of day again.

Yet I do it. I do it for Ludwig, for Feliciano, hoping and praying that one day this will all be over, and the Nazis and Hitler will be no more.

I hear the cart rolling in, breaking myself away from my sullen thoughts. Solemnly, I sort an old man into the unhealthy group, as well as a crying little girl, then come face to face with a handsome young man.

He's wearing tattered glasses, has slick dark brown hair, and has a beauty mark on his face. He stares at me with a cold expression, and since he looks fairly healthy, I decide to spare him.

"Name?" I asked in a monotone voice, looking down at my clipboard.

"Roderich Edelstein," he replied cooly, narrowing his eyes slightly.

"Occupation?"

"Pianist."

I look up, raising my eyebrows. Here, we don't see too many pianists or musicians. I point to the group that has been chosen to be spared. "You'll stay with those prisoners. Three to a bunk, got it?"

He nods curtly, but not before saying, "I never wanted this," making his way over to the group and standing tall, unlike some of the other, more fearful prisoners.

I admire him saying that, for speaking up. He won't last long here, though. None of the brave ones do.

After I've finished sorting the prisoners, one of the other Nazis walks over to me. "You'll be in charge of that bunk," he says, pointing to Roderich's group. I nod and salute, and make my way over to them.

"Bunk 1493!" I shout, almost wincing at the harshness of my own voice. I grab a bin of uniforms, throwing it at them. "You will change into these clothes, then will make your way into your living quarters! You will be given a few hours of rest, then will be put to work! Any complaints?"

The lot of them was silent, the only noise the wind whistling through the buildings, signaling there were no complaints. There were probably hundreds of complaints, but they all went unspoken, in fear of punishment. "Alright, now change!" I commanded, leaning against the wall. I looked up to the sky as they changed, thinking about Feliciano's delicious pasta, (It really was heaven on earth) and soon they were done changing.

Roderich looked down at his clothes in disgust. "Do we seriously have to wear these?" he asked, frowning.

I tried not to be sympathetic-that was against Nazi rules, even though the uniforms really were gross. "Yes!" I clipped at him. I turned to the rest of the bunk, lifting my chin. "You will refer to me as Sergeant Beilschmidt, or Sergeant Awesome, if you must. Now, find a bunk!"

The prisoners scurried around, and in a moment, all of them had chosen a bunk, as well as two bunk-mates.

All of a sudden, I heard a voice rise above the others. "This is, like, totally not fashionable. Toris, don't you agree? These Nazi dudes need to, like, totally get an interior designer."

I raised an eyebrow. This prisoner seemed...interesting to say the least. I pointed to him, a blond that shared Roderich's bed with him, along with 'Toris.' "You! The one who said we need a designer! Hush!" I ordered.

"Even though I agree," I muttered. "Anyway, you will get three hours of rest, before you work. Is that clear?"

They all nodded, laying their head down to rest. I strode out of the bunk. Seeing my friend Elizaveta standing nearby, I walked over to her.

Elizaveta was a guard at the camp, since Nazis weren't allowed to be female. Eliza felt the same way as I did about Hitler and the Nazis, but she had a different reason to be one. She decided to become one to support her siblings, (Her parents were dead, and she was the oldest) as well as to keep me company.

"Hey, Lizzie," I greeted, throwing her a grin.

She rolled her eyes at me. "Any interesting prisoners today?"

I wondered if I should tell her about Roderich. After a moment of contemplating it, I decided to go ahead. "Yeah, there was one. He was a pianist, wore glasses, and seemed awfully brave, compared to the rest of them."

Out of nowhere, Elizaveta's pleasant expression turned to one of horror. "A pianist with glasses?" she asked, her voice uneven.

"Yeah," I said slowly. "Why does it matter?"

"What was his name?!" Elizaveta questioned desperately, grabbing my shoulders and shaking me.

I pried her hands off myself. "Roderich Edelstein. Why does it matter, Eliza?"

She collapsed into my arms. "Roddy is a long-time close friend of mine. Please tell me you saved him!"

I let out a breath. "I saved him," I assured Elizaveta, patting her back. "Is he a Jew?"

"No," she replied, standing up straight again.

I tilted my head. "Then why is he here? He doesn't seem like the type to be a gypsy or something."

Elizaveta shrugged. "I honestly don't know. He probably stood up to a Nazi or something."

I nodded. "Honestly, I applaud him for him if he did."

Elizaveta's face hardened. "We have to save him. Are you in charge of his bunk?"

"Yes."

"Do everything you can to spare his life, got it?"

I saluted. "Yes, ma'am!" I teased, ruffling Eliza's hair.

"I'm serious, Gilbert."

"So am I, Eliza. I swear I'll save him."

She looked down at her watch. "My shift is over. Goodbye, and don't forget our promise!"

"I won't!" I shouted to her now retreating back, and walked back to bunk 1493, entering it to see every prisoner fast asleep.

**A/N: I've seen many WWII stories, yet none about Gilbert and Roderich. Oh, and despite what it may seem like, this story will not be PruHun or AusHun. Elizaveta will only be a supporting character. **

**Review, please! Should I continue this? Should I not? Whatever you opinion is, I'd love to hear it. ^.^**


	2. Chapter 2

"Wake up!" a harsh voice called, worming itself into my dreams. I opened my eyes, and reality came crashing down onto my shoulders, crushing my thoughts.

I was at Warsaw. The famous concentration camp in Poland, in all of Europe, maybe. The place no one came back from alive.

But I was going to keep my head held high. Many prisoners gave up the will to live the moment they got here, but I, Roderich Edelstein, was going to hold onto the hope that I _will_ make it out of this camp alive. And nothing can or will stop me.

My eyes met those of the man standing across the room from me, Sergeant Beilschmidt. He had the strangest eyes I've ever seen; they were a deep brown or purple, maybe even red.

I've never seen red eyes before.

I realized he was the one that woke me, and I sat up, flexing my limbs, and looking over at my two bedmates.

They seemed nice enough, so far. Maybe I could even make friends with them. They had told me their names; Feliks Lukasiewicz and Toris Laurinaitis. Feliks was very outgoing, blond, green eyed, and spoke like a valley girl, which annoyed me, but I was polite about it and didn't say anything. Toris was quieter and more reserved, brunette, brown eyed, and seemed to be the wiser of the two. They told me they came from Poland, and were sentenced here because Feliks was a cross dresser. Figures.

"You will come with me to the dining hall," Sergeant Beilschmidt continued, "And you will be served food. You better eat it up, because it's all you got." A look of sympathy crossed his face, but it soon vanished. "Follow me!"

I stood in the back of the line with Toris and Feliks, following the other prisoners to get food. Sergeant Beilschmidt led us across camp to the dining hall. The sun wasn't even up yet, and ashen clouds covered the stars.

I was served a piece of stale bread, along with a small cup of watery coffee. Ew. Ew, ew, ew, ew. This food was unbelievably repulsive. There was no way in hell I would eat that; I had been eating gourmet cuisine my whole life, and I didn't want to stop now.

Sergeant Beilschmidt slid onto the worn bench next to me. He stared at the food, looking at it quite repellently himself. "You should probably eat that. The Nazis don't give you anything else, and people starve to death every day here."

I gazed at him warily, biting my lip. "Why are you telling me that? No Nazi is kind to his prisoners."

Sergeant Beilschmidt shrugged. "Not every Nazi is the same," he told me, lifting up a corner of his mouth. "Though everyone may tell you that, It's not true."

Before he could say anything else to me, a sharp voice yelled at him. "Sergeant Beilschmidt! Get yer ass over here-yer not permitted to interact with those things!"

I felt my blood boil at being called a 'thing.' I was most certainly not a thing. I was Roderich Edelstein, a pianist, gentleman, and loyal to my country. They had no right to call me a 'thing.' As my thoughts wandered, I could see the Nazis in my position. The world had turned upside down, and now they were being the ones starved, beaten, killed, tortured, and being called 'things', as if their life wasn't precious, as if they didn't mean anything.

It help dulled the suffering, thinking about that.

I dug into my coffee, forcing myself to swallow the rotten liquid. I ate the bread next, and watched Toris and Feliks across from me. Toris was trying to persuade Feliks to eat the food, and Feliks was refusing, crossing his arms and arguing with Toris in his normal valley-girl accent. After what seemed like an hour, Toris finally got Feliks to eat some of it. I suppose hunger eventually overcomes disgust with everyone.

Our meal ended all too soon, and Sergeant Beilschmidt let us out to where we would work. He marched us to roll call, where we were lined up as the Nazis counted us.

Some of the prisoners were so weak they couldn't stand straight in the roll call, and when they collapsed, the Nazis dragged them away, to the hospital.

No one who went there returned alive.

I noticed some prisoners were dragging dead bodies with them to the roll call. Clearly, the dead had to be counted, too.

Did the Nazi's cruelness ever end?

As my violet eyes swept over the rows and rows of inmates, I noticed most were deathly thin and pale. I made a mental note to eat every single bite of food I could lay my hands on, in a anguished strive to survive this camp.

I stomped my feet on the ground to try and keep warm, rubbing my arms. The striped uniforms we were given were no match to the cold, and I needed to stay warm. Beside me, Toris and Feliks were huddled together to conserve body heat.

Roll call ended, and Sergeant Beilschmidt led us across camp once more. This time, he brought us to the edge, and handed all the prisoners in our bunk shovels. As he gave me mine, he winked at me.

What was he thinking? Winking at me? This Nazi must be crazy! Or really sadistic, wanting to befriend me before he killed me, slaughter in the dead of night. I would be wary of Sergeant Beilschmidt from now on. The only people I could trust were Toris and Feliks, and not even the other prisoners.

"You're duty is to build a trench," Sergeant Beilschmidt told us. "You will dig until lunch break, and then until evening roll call and dinner. Your awesome Sergeant will be watching you-that's me, by the way. Now start!"

I thrust my shovel into the hard ground, scooping almost up no dirt. Letting out a frustrated sigh, I tried again, but to no prevail. This ground just wasn't made for digging, and my arms were built for playing the piano, not hard, manual labor.

Feliks was also having trouble, and he looked over at me, wide eyed. "I heard that if you don't do a sufficient amount of work, they kill you," he whispered.

I started digging more franticly. "Shit," I hissed. "I have to do this!"

Feliks nodded, also trying harder. He looked even more weak than I was, and the lack of sleep sure didn't help.

Toris was doing better than Feliks and I. Though small, he was obviously was the strongest out of the three of us, with muscles defined on his arms. I envied him.

I looked up to see Sergeant Beilschmidt striding towards us. This couldn't be good. He must of noticed our lack of strength, and was coming over to punish us.

But, to my great surprise, he didn't. Instead, he grabbed Feliks's shovel, and started doing the work for him. In just a few minutes, he had quite a large hole dug. Feliks looked at me, puzzled, and I was equally bewildered. I had never seen a Nazi quite like Sergeant Beilschmidt, then I remembered my theory. Of course. He was just doing this to befriend us, then kill us.

After he finished digging a large hole for Feliks, Sergeant Beilschmidt grabbed my shovel. He started digging for me, and again, I marveled at his strength. His muscles bulged under his jacket, and I forced myself to tear my eyes away.

Sergeant Beilschmidt walked away after awhile. As I worked, I started humming a tune to my favorite song, Nocturne Opus 9 no. 2. The melody drifted from my lips, relaxing me. Music was my one and only passion; I had loved it ever since I was a child. I had old memories of my father taking me to concerts, and I would be entranced by the notes coming off the instruments, weaving into a work of art. The ground would vibrate beneath me from the force of the music, and the crystal chandeliers would twinkle in the candlelight. I remember coming home after one concert, and running over to our abandoned piano. The tune of the concert song was still stuck in my head, and I plucked out the notes, recreating the song. My father, seeing I had a talent, arranged for piano lessons for me, and I've been playing ever since.

Until now.

Toris leaned stopped digging for a moment, wiping the sweat off his brow. "I like the song," he whispered to me. Feliks, also hearing, nodded in agreement.

"So do I," a deep voice said behind me.

I jumped in surprise, turning around to come face to face with Sergeant Beilschmidt. My eye twitched; certainly he didn't really like it.

"I'm glad you do," I responded coldly, and lifted my chin up, trying to look as haughty as possible.

He nodded and cracked a grin, walking away. I resumed digging, vaguely wondering what this trench was for, anyway. To be honest, I really didn't want to know. It was probably something nasty and inhumane.

After a few hours, the whistle called, signaling the lunch break. I had no idea why it was called that; we didn't get any lunch. I looked into my hole, sighing. Besides what Sergeant Beilschmidt had dug, I had managed to only dig up a small pile. My only hope was to believe I'd get stronger over time.

Lunch break was only a few minutes, and then we were back to work. I worked fervently the whole afternoon, praying that the exertion would result in muscle.

Seven hours later, we were done. Dinner was to be served, then evening roll call, and then we would be allowed to rest for a few hours. I was exhausted, almost ready to collapse, and a quick glance to my right confirmed Feliks and Toris were feeling the same way. There was no way I'd be able to keep this up day after day-no wonder so many prisoners died of exhaustion. The lack of food didn't help, either.

Feliks, Toris, and I walked to the dining hall in a group. Over the day, it was obvious that we would be sticking together from now on. They were the closest thing I had to friends in this hell on earth, even though they seemed a little strange.

We were served a small portion on soup, barely enough to feed a fly, and just as gross as breakfast. I ate it, though, trying to keep strength.

I glanced over to the Nazi's side of the dining hall in envy. They were served much more delicious, healthier meals, with a much bigger size. As I looked at Beilschmidt, though, I saw him tucking small pieces of food into his pocket. I didn't know why; if he got hungry later, he could always ask the kitchen for more.

As my eyes scanned the Nazis, I caught sight of familiar brown hair. Surely it couldn't be! Elizaveta would never work at a place such as this. She had too big of a heart, unlike any of these monsters. I just assumed that it was someone else, who just happened to look like Elizaveta. I spotted a piano by the Nazis, and my fingers ached to play it, even though I knew I never could.

Evening roll call followed dinner, and then Toris, Feliks, and I went back to our bunk.

"Man, they, like, work us beyond belief," Feliks muttered to Toris.

"I know, Feliks. Try to be reasonable, and stay alive, please?"

"Alright, Toris. Whatever you say."

We crawled into bed, tired beyond belief. Toris and Feliks slept near the headboard, and I slept at the foot. I soon fell into a deep sleep, my only escape from the harsh reality here at Warsaw.

_"I really like this piece. Do you think I could play it, Mr. Schett?"_

_"If you work hard enough, Roderich, I think you could."_

_"Ohh, yay!" the dark haired boy exclaimed, jumping into the air for joy. He had heard a famous musician play it, and now he wanted to. It was just so beautiful to the boy, the catchy melody perfect for the piano._

_Mr. Schett sat down at the piano, beginning the play the song for the boy. His long fingers were made to play, and the lovely sound of the song resounded through the house. _

_The boy clapped after the performance, and immediately started learning the song for himself._

_After he had perfected it, he played it for his family, and they loved it as well. They could tell he had a talent for the instrument, and that he wanted to play it forever. And that was the truth-he did._

**Whew! Another chapter! Hope you peoples like it. ^.^ **

**I have a piano recital coming up. I love mah piano, just like Roderich. Not that you care, anyway, but it's nice to tell you. =D**

**Also, I'm sorry if my updates are spontaneous. It might take two days to update-it might take two weeks. I'm really sorry about that. ;m;**

**Review, review, review!**


	3. Chapter 3

The other capos forbid any form of kindness to the prisoners-there will be severe punishment for those who break that rule.

I don't care what they say.

Whenever I'm given the chance, I try to be humane to my prisoners. I'll save a portion of my meal, and slip the starving ones a bit. They're always grateful when I do that; they cry out in happiness, and shove down the food, like the deprived animals they are. It makes me sick, how the Nazis treat these innocent people. Where is humankind going, if it continues to be this murderous, vicious, and bloodthirsty? Nowhere good, that's for sure.

Elizaveta told me to save Roderich, so I will, at least within my power to do so. On the first day, he was so weak that he couldn't even dig the trench that first time working as a laborer. I remembered my promise to Elizaveta when I saw him struggling, so I marched right over, took the shovel from his hands, and dug for him. I also helped his friend, Feliks. Feliks was also one of my favorite prisoners, along with Roderich. I respected him highly, for keeping his spunk and attitude, even in the most miserable of conditions. His 'friend', Toris, also had a strong spirit. I suspected Toris was not just a friend, for many reasons. If Toris and Feliks were lovers, though, they would not be allowed to express it here, so I might never know what their situation was.

When I dug the trench for Roderich, he seemed very wary of me, for whatever reason. He probably thought I was going to harm him, and I didn't dare tell him I wouldn't. He'd be even more cautious of me, thinking I was just taunting him by being friendly, because no other Nazi would be friendly to their prisoners. I was no regular Nazi, but he didn't know that.

I've debated telling him about Elizaveta, but I think I'm going to wait awhile before I tell him she works here. He might demand to see her, and I would not be allowed to bring him to her, and I don't want to break his heart, by giving him the knowledge his friend is so close, yet he's not allowed to make contact with her. He doesn't even know that I have a connection to her, or that I'm planning to save his life, along with Eliza.

On Roderich's third day at Warsaw, I notice he's beginning to look thinner, already becoming one of the half-dead, gray, and starving prisoners. My heart aches for him, for all of the prisoners. I'll do everything within my willpower to make sure he doesn't starve, or drop dead from starvation.

After the third day of digging the trench, I was still helping Feliks and Roderich. Each time, they'd look even more puzzled, no doubt wondering why I was doing this. But I could tell they were gaining more muscle each day, and soon wouldn't need my help, and for that I was grateful, for if the other capos ever caught me helping Feliks and Roderich, the two would be killed, and I had swore not to let that happen.

I drove home from that third day, deciding that I'd tell Ludwig and Feliciano about Roderich and his connection to Elizaveta. The two were always very interested when I told them about unique prisoners, and Feliciano was quite fond of Elizaveta.

I strode into the house, throwing my jacket onto the nearest chair available. "Ludwig!" I called into the silent house.

Feliciano stuck his head around the corner, looking like the curious creature he was. I could see why my little brother loved him so-he was the perfect image of adorable, with his love of kitties, his cutesy expression, and that one hair curl that refused to lie flat. And what he lacked in intelligence, he made up for with his incredible art and and cooking skills. I had shared many fond memories with Feliciano, and he was like a brother to me. If anybody asked why Feliciano was living with Ludwig and I, we did actually pass him off as a stray relative, and whoever asked had no reason to doubt us.

"Ve? I think Ludwig's in the study, big brother," Feliciano told me. I smiled at him, glad he had called me his brother. I had asked him a few months back to do so, and he had stuck to it ever since then.

"Thanks Feli," I said while walking past him, giving him a small pat on the head. I walked into Ludwig's study, a grin on my face.

"The awesome Gilbert is here!" I announced loudly, interrupting Ludwig from his studies. He jumped a foot in the air, then sighed when he realized it was just me. "Don't scare me like that," he scolded me, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

"Ja, ja," I said, waving a hand, dismissing the matter. "When will Feliciano be done with dinner?"

Ludwig shrugged. "Soon, I think. His brother and Antonio are coming over for dinner tonight, too."

I groaned. "Lovino? That shithead? I hate him, and you know it," I said to Ludwig.

Ludwig sighed. "He's not that bad, just very overprotective of his brother."

"You could say that again," I said, snorting.

Ludwig looked down at the old, gnarled, dark wood desk, tracing his fingers over where I had carved my name into it on a night so long ago. "Just try to be nice, okay? For Feliciano."

I puffed out my cheeks. "Alright, but I wanted to talk to you and Feli about something."

"You can still talk to us," Ludwig informed me.

I nodded. "Will there be beer?"

"Of course, brother."

"Kesesesese! I love my awesome beer."

"Yes, you've made that very clear to me over the years, Gilbert."

"I know I have! Now, I'm going to go to my room. You'll be okay without my awesome presence, won't you?"

"Just go, Gilbert. Bother someone else."

"I'm not a bother. I'm an awesome motherfucker."

Ludwig rolled his eyes, choosing to ignore me. I left his office, striding down the hall, and into my room. Ludwig, Feliciano, and I lived in a fairly big house, since my job-however much I hated it-payed very well, so the three of us were able to live very comfortably, in good conditions. Feliciano also sold his masterpieces of paintings, and that brought in extra money, too.

I flopped down onto my silk covered bed, looking up at the ceiling, my mind unintentionally wandering to Roderich. I thought about him at camp, all alone and miserable. I wished to take him out of the camp; he was too refined and pristine and perfect to be there, with his musical skills and elegance. I wondered what it would sound like if he played the piano for me with his pale, graceful fingers.

I shook my head, clearing my thoughts. What was I thinking? I was acting like a love-struck fool. And I didn't even like men that way..

Turning onto my side, I pressed my cheek into the cool pillow, letting my eyes close, and my thoughts go free. I slipped into a half-asleep state, dreaming of cold, amber beer, and juicy red wurst.

A loud knock at the door interrupted my thoughts about delicious food. I stood up, and walked to the door, opening it to see Lovino Vargas, and his cheerful boyfriend, Antonio Carriedo-who also happened to be my best friend. I had no clue how the two got along so well. Lovino was a pissy, grumpy, and unpleasant man, and Antonio was sweet and carefree. But I wasn't going to question their relationship; they got along too well, and I didn't want an angry Lovino on my hands.

"Guten tag!" I greeted, holding the door open, allowing them to walk in. "How are you? The awesome me is great!" I lied. I was far from great, with my terrible life, job, and coworkers. But I didn't want to dampen their spirits, so I kept quiet about my complaints.

"Oh, I'm good, amigo!" Antonio informed me, swinging an arm around Lovino.

Lovino shrugged Antonio's arm off, glaring at the older Spaniard. "Not now, bastard," he warned, pushing past me.

Hearing his brother's voice, Feliciano came running, his sock covered feet skidding on the hardwood floor. "Lovino!" he cried, sprinting to the older Italian, and embracing him. "It's so good to see you!" He pecked Lovino's cheeks, his own flushed with excitement and joy. The two brothers lived quite a distance from each other-Lovino lived in a different city than Feliciano, Ludwig, and I, so they didn't see the other one very often. I didn't see Antonio often either because he lived near Lovino.

Lovino scowled at Feliciano. "Stop being so affectionate," he mumbled, a blush spreading onto his face.

"You can never be too affectionate!" Feliciano chirped.

"Si," Antonio agreed, grabbing Lovino's waist, pulling him close, and kissing his nose, much to Lovino's dismay, as he was yelling in Italian. After awhile, Ludwig managed to break them up, and somehow get everyone to the kitchen and sitting down at dinner without any severe injuries.

As soon as everyone was served food, and settled down, I cleared my throat. "There's something going on with my job at Warsaw that I thought you might want to know."

Lovino glared at me. "Whatever you say, _Nazi_," he accused, making "Nazi" sound like the dirtiest, most disgusting word in existence (which I had to agree to).

I took a deep breath, trying to keep myself from snapping at him. "I only do it for your brother's own good, so be grateful!"

Ludwig put a hand on my arm. "Calm down, Gilbert. I'm sure Lovino only means well."

"Like hell I do," Lovino muttered, and Antonio sighed in exasperation, but managed to smile at Lovino. "Can't we all get along?" he proposed. "It would make things a lot more pleasant!"

"I'll never get along with those potato bastards!" Lovino exclaimed, puffing out his red cheeks in anger, but in the process, actually looking pretty damn ridiculous.

Antonio looked more frustrated, but still kept that cheerful smile on his well tanned face. "Please, Lovi? For me?"

Lovino hesitated, looking torn between doing what Antonio said and what he wanted to do. "...Fine. But just this once, bastardo."

A look of relief came onto Antonio's face. "Thank you, Lovi!" he exclaimed, embracing Lovino for a moment.

I watched their interactions with a feeling of jealousy in my gut. Anyone else would find them disgusting, gross, or wrong, but all I saw was a raw, unconditional love that didn't rely on the world's standards, breaking through all the social boundaries, and shining through despite the wide belief it was devilish. I was envious of that, knowing that I had no significant other to make memories with and cherish, whether they be male or female. But I shook off the feeling, knowing that it didn't help anyone.

"Now, that everyone has agreed to get along, can I please go on?" I asked, running a hand through my pale hair.

Ludwig nodded, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. "Go on," he told me.

"You know Elizaveta works at Warsaw, right?"

"Ja, I know."

"Well, apparently she has an Austrian friend, who's a musician. She hasn't seen him in years, but the two have communicated through letters," I said, remembering when Eliza told me that, only two days ago when I asked her how well she knew Roderich. "His name is Roderich, and I had never met him before. But a few days ago, Roderich came to Warsaw, for reasons Elizaveta and I haven't figured out yet, and might not for a while. I instantly was interested by Roderich, for he was different than all the others, somehow keeping his grace even though he was in a concentration camp, with the knowledge he was probably going to die soon. I told Eliza about him-because I was so intrigued, and when I mentioned he was an Austrian musician named Roderich, she put two and two together, and realized the mysterious musician was in fact her long time friend. She begged me to save him, so Eliza and I will do all I can to get Roderich out of Warsaw, possibly even risking our own lives in the process. Think of this as a returning favor to Eliza for keeping me company," I explained, finishing the story.

Ludwig intently listened to the whole thing, and slowly nodded when I was done. "I'm glad you are doing this, brother," he told me, looking me straight in the eye with his own fierce, baby blue ones. "It shows compassion, which I know you have, but is very hard to come by in a place like the one you work. I'm proud of you for this."

I bit my lip, feeling relief flood over me in waves. I had though Ludwig would of been mad and disappointed in me, but in fact, he was the opposite.

Antonio stared at me, keeping his usual smile plastered on his face, but this time it was slightly different, almost holding a look of regret. "So am I, Gilbert. If my Lovino did something as rash as this, I probably wouldn't let him try, but you're different than Lovi. I'm certain you can pull this off, without any unnecessary tragedies in the process."

Lovino was scowling, which was no big surprise. "I don't really give a fuck what you do, potato bastard, as long as you keep your hands off me and my brother."

Feliciano grinned at me. "I hope you can save Roderich the musician, big brother! He sounds really nice!"

I looked at everyone around the table, reassured by everyone's reactions, and feeling very thankful at the moment. "Me too, Feliciano. Me too."

**A/N: OH MY FUCKING GOD, I'M SO SORRY. *Sobs* I know this update took forever, and I feel terrible. I have this writers block, but I tried to write a little bit everyday...but it still took a long time. ;m; Forgive me please? Maybe review if you have time, even if you're just yelling at me because you hate my fic and my late update?**


	4. Chapter 4

Push. Lift. Dump. Push. Lift. Dump. Push. Lift. Dump.  
The same thing over and over again, never ceasing to stop. My whole world revolved around it. Push. Lift. Dump. That's all I knew in this barren and grey wasteland. The rhythm of my shovel might of been the only thing keeping me sane. It was the exact same routine every single day, the only thing in my life that didn't change. The only thing I had control over.  
As I worked relentlessly on that day (I had lost count of how many days had passed) I saw a unfamiliar sergeant walk over to me while I was working.  
"What's your name?" he demanded, probably doing a random spot check.  
"Roderich Edelstein."  
"And why are you here, Roderich?"  
"I'm gay." Those two words. The words that had destroyed my entire life, the ones that brought me here. The words that my family hid from in shame, the words that were probably going to kill me. And yet I had lost count of how many times I had said them.  
The nameless sergeant glared at me, his cold blue eyes meeting my violet ones. Then he raised a hand, preparing to hit me. The slap soon followed, creating a red mark on my pale skin.  
I cried out in pain, cupping my injured cheek. "What did I ever do to you?!" I cried as tears stung my eyes. "I'm just an innocent musician, you fool!"  
The sergeant balled his fists up into balls and spat at my feet. "You're a disgusting piece of filth. People like you don't even deserve to live."  
"You're the one that's disgusting!" I yelled as I gestured to the prisoners around me. Anger was boiling up inside of me, making me see red. This sergeant, thinking he was the king of the world. He had no right to think that, he never did. He was just like any other sergeant, brainwashed into cruelty. "Killing people that have done nothing wrong!"  
He lifted a hand once again, ready to slap me. But before he could, a different voice cut through the thick air and stopped him. "Wait!"  
I spun around on my heel to see Sergeant Beilschidmt running towards us, flailing his arms in the air. I shook my head, slightly appalled that he had decided to stop the other sergeant because I could be punished for that, but glad I wasn't going to be slapped again.  
Beilschidmt stopped before me, panting from the exertion. "Wait. This one is useful. You don't want to kill or injure him."  
The sergeant scowled. "Since when were you compassionate and soft, Gil?"  
Beilschidmt shrugged. "I'm not, Sergeant Krause. I just don't see the point in trying to ruin something that's useful."  
Sergeant Krause nodded, saluting Beilschidmt. "Yes, of course!" He briskly strode away, leaving Beilschidmt and I alone.  
Sergeant Beilschidmt smirked at me. "Glad I saved you, eh Roddy?"  
"My name is not 'Roddy,'" I scolded, raising my chin. "It's Roderich, thank you very much. And I'm quite surprised that you remembered it at all."  
"I tend to remember names of people that I like."  
"You don't like me. You're a capo."  
"How many times do I need to tell you? Not all of us are the same. And you can call me Gilbert."  
"Gilbert? Why the hell would you give me your first name?"  
"Because I thought you'd like to know it."  
"I'm not your friend."  
"Well, why not?"  
"We can't be friends! You'll just kill me in the end!"  
"I won't kill you. I promise."  
"This place is full of broken promises. I'm in no position to trust you."  
"...You play piano, right?"  
I nodded. "I've played it since I was a little boy. It is my love, my passion."  
"Would you like to play it again?"  
"Of course I would. But I can't."  
"...We have a piano."  
"I know."  
"Would you be willing to lose sleep in order to play it once again?"  
I tilted my head. "What are you suggesting at?"  
"In the middle of the night, nobody's in the dining hall. I can sneak you in. The guards are at the entrance. They don't pay attention to the dining hall."  
"Why would you do this for me?"  
"Because we're friends, remember?"  
I felt my breath hitch in my throat. I was going to play the piano again. It was really going to happen. And before I could even properly think about it-the risk that it could all be a trap-I felt myself say yes.  
Gilbert took a hold of my hands, grinning. He squeezed them once, before saying, "Wonderful." He let them go, leaving the skin there burning from the contact. I quickly hid my hands behind my back and tried to stop the blush that was making its way to my cheeks.  
"Will it be tonight?" I asked, shifting on my feet.  
Gilbert nodded excitedly. "If you want to!"  
"I do want to," I assured him.  
"Okay...so after everyone is asleep, sneak out, got it? I'm going to slip a sleeping drug into your guard's drink tonight. Don't worry about him-he's all taken care of. I'll be waiting not far from your bunk, and I'll escort you to the dining hall. After you play that damn instrument you're attached to, you can go back to bed like nothing ever happened. Understand?"  
"Yes, sir," I said wearily.  
"Oh, and you don't have to call me 'sir'. I think we're long past that."  
"But it's the rule here..."  
"We're breaking a lot of rules as it is. I don't think one more will hurt anyone."  
"All right, Gilbert..."  
"That's better! You're not as stuck up as I thought!"  
"I'm not stuck up!"  
"Yeah, yeah. I gotta leave now, or else the other sergeants will be suspicious of me. See you later, Roddy!" He ran away, leaving me alone.  
Next to me, Feliks leaned over. "What was that about?" he whispered.  
"He's going to let me play the piano," I informed him. It wasn't like Feliks would tell anyone and I could trust him.  
"You could get in trouble!"  
"Feliks, here I could get in trouble by blinking. We're always at risk."  
Feliks snorted. "That's, like, totally the truest thing I've heard in my whole life. Just be careful, okay?"  
"I'll be careful," I promised. "Yet something's different about that sergeant...and I can't put my finger on it. I have the feeling he's not like the other capos. Not at all."  
Feliks nodded, staring off into the distance. "I have that feeling too."  
"I think I can trust him," I confided as I pushed the shovel into the ground once more. Push. Lift. Dump.  
oXoXo  
That night, I was so nervous that I could barely swallow my dinner. In a few hours, I could be dead. Or I could be playing those ivory and black keys I was longing to touch. I could only hope for the best; hope that Gilbert could be trusted. Next to me, Feliks was chattering up a storm to Toris, but I barely heard him. I was in my own little world, memories of the piano flooding fast into my mind. There was that day that I played it for twenty-four hours straight, then fell into my bed and slept for fifteen more. And one time, I played for the duke in a golden theatre, dressed in my finest clothes and playing in front of hundreds of people, yet not anxious or scared at all. Once, I had traveled around all of Austria for a whole summer, playing in every hall I could. My whole life revolved around the piano, I suddenly realized for the first time. But I didn't mind at all.  
Before I knew it, we were being marched to our bunker. This was it. While all the rest of the prisoners were asleep, I'd sneak out and meet Gilbert. I looked to the inky black sky, praying that this whole scheme would work out all right.  
At the bunk, Feliks and Toris stripped and climbed into bed. I had told them of the complete plan at dinner, and they had both wished me the best of luck. I needed it, after all.  
As I stayed awake, I heard the breathing slow of everyone around me, signaling they were asleep. And though I only waited an hour before getting up, it felt like years in the darkness, the only sound my own heart thumping wildly in my chest as it strained against the fear I was feeling.  
I slowly sat up, looking around me. I could sense no movement; therefore, everyone was probably asleep. I padded against the hard floor, tentatively pushing the door open and wincing when it creaked. Sure enough, I could see the guard laying on the ground, obviously asleep and lit up by the moon. Gilbert had stuck to his promise.  
I walked awhile in the dark, barely seeing anything. As I blindly moved in the general direction of the dining hall, I felt someone abruptly grip my arm.  
I let out a shriek, jumping into the air. A hand moved to cover my mouth and stifle my scream. "Shh!" my attacker ordered. "It's me, Gilbert!"  
I felt my limps go limp with relief. "I thought you were going to kill me!"  
"Of course not! Now let's go!" He grabbed my hand and started running to the dining hall, dragging me along. In just a couple of minutes, we reached the building, its dark form looming above us in the night.  
Gilbert took out a key out from his pocket and unlocked the door, pulling me inside and shutting the door again.  
He led me through the hall, and soon enough we reached the piano. He flipped on the spotlight, bathing the piano in soft yellow light. "Go ahead and play," he said to me, grinning like an idiot for some reason.  
I slowly walked up onto the podium, feeling slightly dizzy. After all, I had thought I might never play it again. This was the moment I'd been longing for after weeks, even months without coming into contact with the keys. The relief and gratitude and joy I felt was overwhelming, making my head spin and my knees shake.  
I slid onto the cushioned black velvet seat, my hands hovering over the keys. I had no idea what I was going to play. After a moment, I decided to play a personal favorite of mine, Chopin Nocturne Opus 9, No. 2. It had always been one of my most cherished songs, with so many pleasant memories attached to it. It was dear friend Elizaveta's favorite, too.  
This time, however, was different than all the other times I had played it. Something, somehow, made me play with more passion, maybe for I feared this was the last time I would ever play it. My fingers danced on the keys as the music filled me, everything around me disappearing. To me, the only things in the world was the song and myself. Nothing else mattered.  
But when it ended, I was no longer in that world. I was back at Warsaw, dressed in a dirty uniform with a sad and empty looking piano in front of me. But I heard clapping, and I turned around to see Gilbert with an awestruck expression on his face. "You're amazing!" he cried. "I've never heard someone play like that in my life!"  
I sighed. "I've been playing it since I was little, Gilbert. I would be fairly good at it."  
"Play again!" Gilbert demanded.  
So I did. I played song after song, and after each one, Gilbert would demand another. I played and played and played for two whole wonderful hours. It was the best time I had in months and I was reminded yet again how much I loved the piano. Gilbert seemed to enjoy it, acting like a child on Christmas morning after each song, clapping his hands and smiling at me.  
But after two hours, we both knew my time was up. I still needed to sleep to stay alive, and there was only a few more hours until I would have to get up again. Gilbert led me back to the bunk, unusually silent the whole walk back.  
I stood in front of the building, nodding my head once. "Thank you," I whispered to him. "I can't believe you let me do this."  
"It's no problem. Anything to see you happy."  
"Why me, though? Why are you taking such extreme measures for me?"  
"Ah...that's going to have to remain a secret for now," he teased, causing me to scowl.  
"A secret?! What are you hiding from me?"  
"I can't tell you yet. Just go to bed now and don't worry your pretty little head. It'll come to you in time."  
I sighed in exasperation. "Goodnight."  
"Night, Roddy! Dream of me, okay?"  
And with that, Gilbert ran away once again.  
I sighed and snuck back into the bunker, crawling under the blanket I shared with Feliks and Toris and soon fell asleep quickly, the happiest I had been in a long time.  
And it was all thanks to one certain German named Gilbert.  
A/N: Expect longer waits between updates from now on. Sorry about that. And I hoped you liked the story so far. Reviews are love, as always.


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